In Proportion
by Phx
Summary: A day at the lake. A missing ring. Two little boys and three bullies. I think that pretty much sums it up.


**Special Notes:**This one if for Merry. I trust you'll find the 'payment', satisfactory, darlin'! The boys are seven and eight in the story. And thank you to my Hardy Boys beta, JD!

Phoenix

**In Proportion**

"I hate being short," seven-year-old Joe Hardy complained as he sat on the edge of a wooden pier and dangled his tanned legs over the edge. It was a beautiful summer evening and the boys' father, private investigator Fenton Hardy, had rented a cabin on the lake for two weeks, to spend some quality time with his young sons.

His eight-year-old brother sat down next to him and passed him an orange Popsicle. "You aren't really short," Frank offered helpfully as he carefully scooted to the end and dangled his feet over the edge too. "Just small for your age!"

The August sun was setting, casting hues of brilliant copper and bubblegum pink over the lake. There was no breeze tonight and the water was still. Across the lake the brothers could just hear the sound of voices – teenagers probably, Frank figured – and saw the flickering of a camp fire. He hoped they weren't too noisy tonight. Last night he'd had trouble sleeping as a party across the shore had gotten very loud, punctuated by the sound of a police siren at two in the morning!

"Gee thanks," the younger boy said glumly, "even my own brother thinks I'm a peewee!"

"I never said that," Frank defended himself, although a part of him told him how futile his defense was going to be. When his brother got in these little snits it was hard to convince him of anything otherwise. "I just think you're in proportion."

"Propo— what's that?" Blue eyes turned to look at the older boy, the scowl replaced by a quizzical look.

"It means everything looks right together. Your arms don't look too long or too short, your head isn't too big or too small – everything just looks the way it's supposed to, on you," the older boy explained as he bit off a section of his yellow Popsicle and chewed it thoughtfully. He wondered if his father would let them stay up late again tonight.

Last night, Fenton had lit a big bonfire and the boys had been allowed up until ten o'clock roasting marshmallows and making s'mores.

"I just wish I was as tall as you!" Joe said a few moments later, after finishing his treat and putting the stick down beside him. He'd have to remember to take it back inside when they left.

"Well I've got a whole year's worth of growing ahead of you," his brother reminded him and then fixed him with a smile, "but maybe when we're older…. Who knows, someday you might be bigger than me!"

"Wow, wouldn't that be something," the younger boy speculated, his blue eyes shining with excitement at the thought – bigger than Frank! It seemed all his life his brother was bigger than he was. And then he laughed at himself; of course Frank had been bigger.

"You shouldn't let those kids bug you," Frank commented a moment later. He was referring to the group of children they'd met today who were also staying at the lake. The kids were all older and had fun picking at Joe for being the youngest and smallest. Even that horrible red-haired girl, Roslyn, had been bigger than Joe – but then again she was also eight, '_and threw a mean right hook'_, he thought ruefully.

Frank had set them straight about making fun at his brother and had a black eye to show for it. He didn't regret standing up for Joe, but he wished it didn't hurt so much. Joe himself had not fared much better, coming out of the fray with a bloody nose and split lip. '_It could have been a lot worse though'_, the dark-haired boy thought, as he touched his cheek gingerly; at least his father and two other parents had shown up and broken up the fight before someone had gotten seriously hurt.

Fenton had advised his sons to stay near the cabin and away from those kids, after hearing what had happened, and so Frank and Joe had spent the last two hours playing around the cabin.

"I wish Hero was here," the little boy said after a few minutes of amicable silence, referring to their family pet – a 150-pound Newfoundland dog.

"Me too," Frank sighed and then added, "but then Mom would have been all by herself."

"I know," Joe said glumly as his gaze flittered across the serene water. He and the dog were practically inseparable, and the older boy knew his brother was missing the animal. However, this was a special trip for just them and their dad, so Mom and Hero had stayed home.

"_Frank! Joey!"_

The sound of their father's voice brought both boys to their feet; Joe snatched the Popsicle stick as he moved, and they hurried back to the cabin.

The tall, dark-haired, handsome man met them by the front door, his face widened in an easy smile when he saw his boys. "Who wants to go on a late night canoe trip across the lake?" He was already holding the boys' life jackets in his hand, anticipating their answers.

Two excited "Me!" and "I do!" made him laugh, and within minutes the children were hustled down to the lake. It was one of those magical nights that the boys would carry with them forever.

The next morning, however, things were different….

Once again the boys were down on the pier. This time Joe was skipping rocks across the water and Frank was brooding. He was upset with their father.

At six a.m. that morning, the phone had rang and Fenton had been tied up with it ever since.

Thinking of their father made Frank scowl. This was supposed to be _their_ time together and he wondered what was so important. Making a decision, the older boy got to his feet, hooked his brother's arm and pulled him along. "Come on," he said.

"Where we going?" Joe asked even as he automatically followed Frank.

"Let's do some more exploring."

"But Dad said we had to stay close," the blond boy reminded his brother, not particularly anxious to get into any more trouble. His face still smarted and he knew his rear-end wouldn't be too far behind, if they got into further trouble.

"We will," Frank promised as a mischievous gleam lit up his dark brown eyes. "Last one to the path is a rotten egg!" And he took off running, heading straight towards the small trail they had discovered the prior morning, before they ran into the other kids.

"Hey! No fair!" Joe squealed as he took off after the bigger boy.

Within moments, breathing hard and with their hair plastered to their faces from the rapidly warming morning and exertion of the race, the boys hit the path together. Joe suspected his brother had purposely let him catch up, but didn't complain.

"Let's pretend we're hunters," Frank said, his face serious as he stooped down and picked up a long thin stick. "This is my sword."

"A sword?" Joe questioned, "wouldn't a gun be better?"

"Nah," his brother denied as he took a couple of practice swipes with his 'weapon,' "I don't like guns."

"Me neither," Joe agreed as he rustled through the undergrowth until he found a suitable stick, "and this is my—" he faltered and thought hard. Frank had a sword and they couldn't have the same thing… "this is my _fighting stick_," he pronounced proudly, pleased with himself.

Frank grinned but didn't comment. Instead he put his fingers on his lips and quietly led the other boy up the trail and into the trees.

After a few minutes, Joe had to ask, "Frank?"

"Hmmm?"

"What are we hunting?"

The dark-haired boy stopped, blinked and his face pursed in thought. His features melted into an ingenious grin. "Werewolves."

"_Werewolves?"_ Joe just about choked on the word.

"Yeah, werewolves."

"Not Big Foot?" the younger boy questioned, thinking it made more sense to hunt the locally rumored Sasquatch.

"Not Big Foot." Frank's grin widened. He knew what his brother was going to ask next and already had the answer.

"Why not?" In Joe's young mind, Big Foot was scary enough without adding in the fear factor of a werewolf – _all those sharp teeth and claws…_ he shuddered at the thought.

"Because Big Foot doesn't hurt people – he just has really big feet and likes to live by himself. But werewolves _love_ to kill and we're good hunters so we only hunt things that are bad."

"Oooh!" Comprehension lit up the younger face. "So we're like demon hunters or something?"

"Or something," Frank chuckled and then hushed his voice. "Now you need to be very quiet 'cause the werewolves are very hungry today and I hear they love little boys with blond hair."

The horrified look on Joe's face was priceless. The child tightened his grip on his 'fighting stick,' set his jaw and nodded curtly at the older boy. "I don't want to be eaten."

"Good," Frank whispered, "now be quiet!"

Joe went all of about a minute and a half before he stopped again. "Hey!" his voice was rather indignant.

Frank turned around to look back at him. "What?"

"You need a silver bullet to kill a werewolf," the younger boy reminded him as he looked forlornly at his 'weapon.'

"Oh." Frank blinked – he'd forgotten that. And then he grinned again. "But this is pretend, so we can just pretend that my sword and your stick are magical and can kill 'em, okay?"

The blond boy thought about that for a few moments and slowly acquiesced. "Okay," he agreed, "that will work."

They continued along the trail for another ten minutes before Frank saw someone in the trees ahead of them and groaned. It was the kids from yesterday morning.

Joe saw them too and tensed. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh, is right," the older boy agreed, putting his hand out behind him to stop his brother. "I think we've explored far enough. Let's go back and see if Dad is off the phone now. Maybe he'll take us canoeing again or something."

"Good idea," Joe immediately agreed, and started to turn around when a girl's voice called out to them. He groaned. It was Roslyn.

"HEY!"

Frank scowled as the girl and two boys with her hurried towards them. "What?" he asked guardedly. His posture stiffened as his body tensed in anticipation of trouble.

"We thought we told you yesterday about going in our woods," the biggest boy, nine-year-old Tanner, said.

"You don't own it," Joe retorted. Frank turned around and quickly made a hushing motion, not in a mood to get into another fight today and knowing his brother's hot head too well.

Brian, the other boy, almost nine, scowled, "You're awfully mouthy for a shrimp."

Frank winced and put his hand on his brother's arm to keep Joe from doing anything stupid. "Look, we don't want no trouble," he tried to placate, wondering exactly how the heck they ended up on the wrong side of the only other kids in the immediate area. And then he remembered… oh yeah, they'd been picking on Joe.

"Good," Roslyn, the only girl in the group, smirked as she absently twisted a small gold band on her finger, "'cause we'd have to kick your butts again—" She smirked at Joe and added, _"Shorty."_

Joe shook off Frank and moved more quickly than his brother anticipated, stopping inches from the girl. "I ain't short! I'm just in prop- poro – I'm just the right size for me!"

Frank grabbed his brother and pushed him towards the path leading back the way they came. "Come on, Joey. It ain't worth it. Let's just go."

"Yeah – chickens!" Tanner goaded. "Cluck, cluck, cluck!"

This time it wasn't Joe who reacted, but Frank. In two strides, the dark-haired boy was nose to nose with Tanner. The look in his dark eyes was chilling and the older boy involuntarily took a step back.

"Drop it. _Now,_" Frank hissed, his normal patience long since worn thin by these kids. He had a very low tolerance for bullies as it was.

"_Oh no!"_ Roslyn's outcry broke the tension as they saw the girl looking around the forest floor, obviously distressed at having lost something. "My grandma's ring! I lost my grandma's ring!" She looked at the boys, "I always wear it on my finger…but it just came off and I don't know where it went….You have to help me find it. It's the only thing I have – she's dead and it was a gift—"

"Okay, okay." Frank turned, startled to hear his brother's voice. "Geez already, we'll help you look for it. Just stop fussing." His chest filled with pride at the younger boy, although he knew his brother was, by nature, a 'fixer'. He hated it when other people were upset, and tried to make them feel better. Joe was their one-person family cheering squad.

Within moments, the five children were bending over and searching the area for the small gold band. But it was nowhere to be found.

Disheartened, Roslyn sniffed and wiped at her now dirt-stained wet cheek. "I can't believe it's gone. It was my grandma's."

"Hey," it was Joe who found the small hole in the ground. "Could it have gone down here?"

The children quickly gathered around the small opening in the earth, pulling at the long grass that had blocked it from their earlier view.

"I was standing over there," the girl said doubtfully as she pointed to an area a bit of a distance away.

Frank stood up from where he had been kneeling by the hole and frowned. He walked towards the spot where Roslyn had been when the ring had fallen off her finger and pursued his lips.

"What's he doing?" Tanner whispered to Joe as they remained kneeling by the small hole.

"He's thinking," the little boy said with a smug look on his face, "Frank's real good at that kind of stuff."

"What's he thinking of?" Brian demanded. He and Roslyn were standing across from them.

"I dunno," Joe admitted. "But our dad's a private inbestigator and he taught Frank everything he knows!"

"You mean a private _investigator?_" Tanner corrected, looking at Frank with something akin to respect.

"That's what I just said," the blond boy scowled. He hated it when _adults_ corrected his grammar, it was worse when it was kids.

Frank trotted towards them and crouched down by the hole again. "The ground here is lower than where we were standing. See, it's an incline – a hill," he amended when Joe frowned at him. "So it could have rolled down here and into the hole, or even been kicked down when we were looking for it."

"Oh no," Roslyn wailed. "It's lost forever! None of us can fit down there to look."

Joe rolled his eyes. _Girls could be so dramatic!_ He bit his lip and looked at his older brother, his blue eyes a little wider in his face than usual. "I can fit—" he glanced at the hole and back up at Frank again, "I think I can, anyway."

Frank started to shake his head. "I don't think it's a good idea, Joey. Roslyn can get a grownup to help."

"No, Frank," Joe stood up in front of his brother, imploring him to listen, "I can do it. I can."

"Joey—" The older boy was still hesitant. His brother could get stuck or something.

"I can." Blue eyes burned into brown eyes and Frank felt his resolve slipping.

Sighing, he looked at the hole and then pulled his brother away from the other children. He lowered his voice. "Joey. It's going to be dark down there...and you'll be by yourself." Two years earlier Joe had been taken by a sadistic couple from a carnival fun house, and although he had been gone for less than 48 hours, one of the lasting effects of the abduction was an almost paralyzing at times, fear of being alone in the dark.

"I know," came an almost hesitant reply, "but Frank, it was her grandma's ring…" his voice trailed off and the older boy felt a lump rise in his throat.

He nodded and cleared his throat. "Okay Joey. But you know you don't have to do this and if you get scared—"

"I won't get scared 'cause I know you're right here," Joe cut him off with a confident smile. Frank wished he could share his faith but he just had a bad feeling about this.

The four children watched as the small seven-year-old wriggled and squirmed his way, feet first, down the hole. It was deeper than they thought and within moments, Joe disappeared from sight.

Frank held his breath.

"Come on Joey," he whispered, "hurry up."

Beside him, Tanner grunted, "he's braver than I gave him credit for."

The older Hardy looked at the boy but never said anything. His attention was too focused on the hole in the ground that had swallowed up his brother.

Finally they heard Joe's triumphant voice: "I found it!" And everyone let out a relieved sigh.

"Okay, Joey," Frank called to his brother, "come back up then."

They heard a soft grunt as Joe slowly climbed out of the hole, his hand clutching the ring in front of him. When his head popped out, Roslyn was right there and took the ring from him.

"Oh thank you!" she cried in elation, "thank you so much!"

Joe beamed at his brother, his own face smudged with dirt, but as Frank reached out to pull his brother the rest of the way out of the hole, he saw an alarmed look flash across the little boy's face and then Joe was gone, slipping back down and crying out in surprise.

"Joey!" Frank yelled, shocked by the sudden turn of events. _What had happened?_ "Joey!"

For a few long moments, there was no sound and then Joe's voice, sounding small and strangled, reached their ears. "_Frank?_"

"I'm right here, Joey – are you okay?" The older boy waited, his heart pounding so loudly it almost drowned out the reply.

"_It's dark, Frank."_ The voice sounded so far away and so scared, the older boy felt his stomach lurch.

"Can you climb back out?" he demanded, his face pressed over the hole, but he couldn't see his younger brother. _'Just how deep is this thing anyway?' _he wondered absently, hindsight telling him they should have figured that out before his brother had gone down.

"_Yeah,"_ came a rather unconvincing reply and then Frank heard the sound of his brother slowly scrambling back up the side again. He wasn't moving very fast and the older boy could hear almost-panicked breathing.

"You're doing good, Joey," Frank assured, trying to keep his voice calm sounding, although calm was not how he was feeling right now. "Just a little further – you can do it. I'm right here." He felt the other children crowding around him now, their anxiousness for his brother almost palpable.

The sound of scrambling in the hole stopped and the older Hardy called out, concerned, "Joey? Why'd you stop?"

There was a long pause and then he heard a hiccup, followed by another. He knew his brother was terrified.

Glancing back at the three other kids, Frank said tersely, "Get my Dad – tell him what happened. He'll know what to do!" Without a word, Brian and Tanner sprinted down the path and towards the cabin the Hardys were staying in. Roslyn stayed with Frank.

"Joey? Come on, brat," Frank worked hard to keep his voice even. "You gotta keep moving. Come on. I'm right here waiting for you."

In the darkness of the hole, Joe heard his brother's voice and tried to respond to it – to move towards it, but he couldn't. He was just too afraid.

Going down the hole after the ring had been okay. Sure, it had been dark, but he was so focused on finding the jewelry that it kept his mind off the pressing darkness and the apprehension that lurked there. But after the girl took the ring and his foot had lost its purchase on the loose clay, he had slipped back down and into the arms of his waiting fear.

Alone and in the dark, the terror assaulted him, and only his brother's voice kept him tethered to the light. Slowly he forced his mind to focus on Frank and Frank only, and he started to crawl back out again. But halfway up, the fear took over and his painfully tense body forgot how to breathe – he sucked pathetically but his lungs refused to expand. He was hyperventilating!

"_Frank!" _

The eight year old had never felt such relief as when he heard his father's voice behind him, and then the investigator was dropping to his knees next to him, and peering into the hole.

"He's down there?" he asked, his dark brown eyes boring into Frank's, and the boy felt responsible for this – he should have said no when Joe offered to go.

"Yeah—" He paused, his own eyes welling up. "Dad, I'm sorry—"

Fenton cut him off, gently but firmly. "Frank. We'll talk about this after we get your brother out." And then he turned his attention back to the small boy trapped down the hole.

"Joey? Son? It's Daddy."

There was no response from the hole and the man cursed silently and then pressed against the hole, reaching in with his arm as far as he could, hoping his younger son had crawled up enough for him grab him.

"Come on, Joey," he implored, "where are you, son?"

He could hear a small whimper and his heart twisted – the fear in that small sound was breath-stealing. And then his fingers touched something soft and he grasped it quickly, hearing a shocked gasp from the hole.

"Easy son," he soothed, "it's just Daddy." Gently he tugged on his son's soft hair until he could get a grasp on a thin shoulder, hooking his fingers on the material of the boy's shirt and gently pulling.

Slowly, like reeling in a fish, the child was plucked out of the hole.

The man grabbed the little boy and pulled him close, rubbing Joe's back as the child pressed his shaking body against his.

"It's okay, Joey – shhh, son. You're okay." Fenton was aware of Frank sitting down beside them and reaching out a tentative hand towards his brother's dirt-stained cheek. Behind them, the other children, relieved to see that the little boy was okay, slipped away to give the reunited family some privacy.

Later on they'd stop by the cabin to make sure Joe was fine and offer a truce, deciding that sometimes the biggest of people come in the smallest of bodies…

"Joey?" Frank said hesitantly, as he wiped a tear away from his brother's face, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you go down there."

The little boy shook his head, laying his cheek against his father's strong chest and matching his breathing to the man's. "Not your fault," he said, "I wanted to go."

Fenton spoke up then, confident that Joe, while shaken, was not hurt. "You boys want to tell me what happened?" He had gotten only the barest details from the two boys who had banged on his door only ten minutes earlier.

Frank nodded and did most of the telling since Joe was still trying to get his breathing back to normal. And when he finished, their father sighed and didn't say anything for a few moments. The two children exchanged worried glances.

Finally Fenton spoke. "It was nice that you boys wanted to help Roslyn find her missing ring. However, putting yourself at risk is not an acceptable way of doing that – not to me. I need to know I can trust you to use both your head and your heart in situations like this, do you understand me?"

"I think so," Joe spoke first. "I shouldn't have gone down the hole 'cause I didn't know how deep it was or if it was safe."

"Exactly," Fenton said, proud his young son understood that precaution was a must in any unknown situation, regardless of how badly you wanted to help. He looked at Frank.

"And I should have followed my gut," the older boy admitted. "I knew it was a bad idea but still let Joey go because he was the only one who could fit down the hole."

"Very good," the detective said, pleased that Frank realized the flaw in logic – sometimes intuition just had more merit. The best, of course, was a marriage of logic and instinct…

The man started to get up, easily lifting the small boy with him. The exhausted child nestled against his chest, his breath warm against the man's neck. It was oddly comforting to the detective and he smiled.

"What about you?" Frank asked, when they came in view of the cabin.

Fenton looked down at him uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean, son?"

"What did _you_ learn from this?" The young brown eyes were wide and so serious that for one moment Fenton almost laughed. And then he realized Frank expected an answer. Pursing his lips, he thought about it for a moment and as Joe twisted his head against Fenton's shoulder to get a better look at his father's face, the man realized the lesson he'd learned as well.

He smiled and reached out to tousle Frank's brown hair. "I learned that when it comes to my time, nothing takes priority over my sons." A mischievous glint lighted his dark eyes. "Now, what say we grab our hiking stuff, pack a lunch and hit the trail? We can pretend we're hunters – what?"

The sound of Frank's groan stopped him and he looked from one face to the other. The boys traded looks and then the older boy shrugged.

With a weighty sigh, Fenton's seven year old placed a warm hand against his cheek and said seriously, "Okay Daddy. But I gotta warn you. The werewolves are hungry today and I heard they like eating Daddies."

Fenton chuckled, "Werewolves eh? Well it's a good thing I'm bringing bait then!" Holding Joe in one arm, the man scooped up his older son as well and hurried down towards the lake. "_Wet_ bait at that!"

The squeals of his boys lit up his heart and the detective was actually glad for Roslyn and her grandmother's missing ring. If not for that incident, he would probably still be on the phone…trying to talk his partner, Sam Radley, through setting his VCR to tape one channel while he watched another….

The End


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